


Queen Takes Colonel

by dearxalchemist



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Roy has a spare key
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7915525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like every game of chess, every game in life the Queen is the the one with power. Even the Colonel himself had to acknowledge the facts that Riza Hawkeye is a Queen and that he is in a whole mess of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen Takes Colonel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katyfaise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/gifts).



There’s no air conditioning in her home, he finds this out the hard way as he pulls her spare key out of his pocket. She gave it to him months ago under the guise of _‘emergencies only’_. Her anger with him counted as an emergency. He walks into the small hall and feels the heat licking at his skin, it’s stifling. The windows are all open and there’s a slight breeze but nothing much more. Sweat beads up and slips down the back of his neck. He tears off his uniform jacket first and hangs it up next to her own and Hayate’s leash in the hallway before untying his boots. He’s late to her dinner, worst of all he’s late on the only day that matters. He manages to fish the small box out of his uniform jacket and fixes the little yellow bow that’s been crushed by his pocket. A bit of guilt wells up in his stomach but he presses it aside, finishes tossing off his shoes. He dropped her spare key back into his pocket and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his work shirt.

Hayate’s feet can be heard scraping against the hardwood as he comes to greet Roy. The dog is happy as ever, dancing around his legs and then running back in the direction of his mistress. He can smell the birthday dinner before he ever makes it to the kitchen. The stove is alive with steam billowing upwards, the radio is on and the lieutenant has her hands up in her hair where she pins it up haphazardly as her hips swing to the music. Hayate runs around, skimps around her ankles and then sits when she gives him a pointed look. The scene before him is so domestic that he hardly notices the heat in the house. He’s too busy watching her hips move and the dark blue skirt skating around her thighs along with the white button up blouse that’s mostly undone, exposing a piece of white lace lingerie to the world. 

“I don’t recall inviting you in, Sir.” Riza speaks not bothering to turn to him. Instead she leans over the stove to one of the many pots and opens the lid. A warm buttery smell assaults her senses and she hums, stirring the contents with a spoon before replacing the lid. 

“Not true, you invited me last week.” He leans in the doorway, mesmerized by the woman before him. He wants to unbutton the rest of the shirt she wears and apologize for the way he left things. He had left early in the morning while she was in the shower, washing away the memory of their time together. He hadn’t bothered with a note, he had simply just dressed and left like she wasn’t worth his time. 

She must have been holding a grudge because she hadn’t so much as uttered a single word to him during their work day. Even her tone now was sharp and bitter. He felt the sting of her words and lifted the small box in his hand, shaking it softly. It was small, not much bigger than his palm not to mention it looked like a two-year old had wrapped it with a tacky yellow bow on top. Riza looked at him now, her brown eyes catching the box in his hand and then his own gaze. She dropped the lid back on to the pot and wiped her hands off on the small rag next to the stove. 

“Getting sentimental on me?” She asked quietly, lips twitching upwards as she moved towards him a slow languid walk that had his full attention. He watched that skirt shift along her thighs and his insides ran warm. Her fingers plucked the box out of his hand and she shook it softly just as he had. She examined it carefully and he watched as she turned the box over and over again in her hand before smirking.

“It’s not going to explode you know, but it may get tangled in all that shaking.” He reaches for the box but she doesn’t let him have it. So he settles for pushing a stray lock of her blond hair back behind her ear. His fingers linger close to her cheek and he drops away when she backs up from him. Riza walks towards the stove, turning it all down on a low-simmering heat before leaning against the counter top with her fingers poised over the little yellow bow. She glances up at him and he knows she’s watching him as he adjusts his collar in the heat of her home. The lack of air conditioning has made the room stifling. He focuses on her legs for now. They’re long and endless, crossed barefoot at the ankle. She doesn’t open the present just yet, simply holds onto it while he takes his time looking her over. The sound of the wrapping paper being torn drags him back to reality. Roy tears his gaze from her legs and ends up watching her obliterate the paper in her small hands. She has the velvet box open in a heartbeat and then silence rings out in her apartment. The stove keeps bubbling softly but, she’s not moving. He watches her pale pink lips part, brows furrow -- she’s processing his gift slowly, letting her fingers dip inside of the box to pull out the silvery chain. It’s a small and delicate little chain with something hanging on the edge of it. Riza moves her hand up and runs her thumb through the ring on the end of the chain.

“Roy,” She says his name softly, turning the silver ring over on her thumb. She feels the weight of his stare on her as she pulls away from the counter top, walking towards him now with the gift dangling from her finger.

He smiles that devilishly charming grin of his, moving to catch her hand. He tugs her gift free of her finger and unhooks it. With well practiced fingers he moves it around her neck and fastens the chain. The ring is heavy and falls right to her chest, just below the dip of her shirt. He made sure it would be easy to tuck away if she ever wanted to wear it under the thick uniform they put on daily. His hands linger behind her neck, thumbs stroking downwards as he smiles, “It looks good.” 

Riza’s fingers move up to the ring and she pulls it up into her palm between the two of them. Dragging his hands away from her neck he takes her palm in both hands and folds her fingers over the silver ring in her palm, “It’s the ring I got when I was first promoted. Reminds me that there’s still a long way to go. There’s still a lot I can accomplish -- with you of course.” He says it carefully, words well rehearsed in the mirror of his own bathroom. He watches the emotions cross her face, the way she holds herself together is a real talent that few possess. Her fingers around the ring tighten and she manages a small comforting smile.

“I still didn’t invite you over,” Her voice is barely above a whisper and it makes him drop his head back with a laugh. She doesn’t shove him away, doesn’t make him leave. He takes this all as a good sign. Riza is a good woman who loves him more than he could ever love himself. 

He laughs and she scoffs, dropping the ring back under her shirt for protection. Riza takes a step back to move but he reaches for her. A silent apology forming on his lips as his hands slip from her arms down to her waist. He pulls at the white shirt she wears, fingers moving upwards to finish opening the rest of the buttons. She doesn’t fight him, simply watches him as he trails lower, pushing the edges of the shirt open, guiding her back a few steps to the small kitchen table. She may still be mad at him, but the little present has worked so far. She allows him to sit her in the chair and she allows him to drop a kiss to her collarbone and he doesn’t stop there. He presses a mouth over the soft curve of her breast. She’s wearing lingerie too expensive for her everyday wear. It’s white and lacy, he doesn’t take it off of her. He likes the look of it on her as he continues down, letting his tongue swipe over a small trail of sweat past her navel. The blonde groans quietly and he watches as she sucks on her bottom lip for a moment before dragging her teeth over it. Her little actions make him smirk and his smirk must annoy her because she pushes on his head to make him go on. Her touch is not gentle. She presses her palm over the crown of his head in a silent command. The Colonel does not disappoint the Queen, he goes to work at getting into her good graces once more. He whispers apologies along the soft skin of her belly, dipping down along lines of muscles, down to the edge of her hips. He wants to keep the skirt on her, it stokes the fire in his belly, he is after all still a man. 

His mouth is soft and brazen, burning against her skin. Her fingers twitch at the edges of her skirt, tearing them away from his hair for just a moment. She shifts her hips up and he takes the bait. She can feel the scorched edges of his fingers climbing higher, brushing along the soft insides of her thighs. He pinches the skin for a moment, turning the skin red under his touch before soothing the spot with a swipe of his warm tongue. Riza’s lips part and she gasps softly as she shifts to the edge of her chair. He helps her along, pulling on her. He drags her to the very ledge and then drags a clean cheek across the inside of her thighs. She’s on edge with electricity surging through her veins, it’s a feeling that spikes with every touch. 

“Sir,” Riza breathes the words out and she can feel him smiling against her skin. His tongue darts over her thigh once more. He draws himself up, burying himself beneath her skirt like a scoundrel, dragging the flat of his tongue over the front of the thin fabric that separates her from him. She jumps and he grins halfway into his apology. He repeats himself in the movement soaking the front of her panties. He can already taste her through the thin fabric, he enjoys the way she already coats his tongue and the inside of his mouth. Roy can feel her fingers slip along his temples. She has callouses that scratch his skin, then she drags her fingers through his hair in a tentative manner. He urges her one, dragging the very tip of his tongue to the elastic edge of her underwear as if to toy with her. 

“Roy,” She warns him but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead he keeps going. He is dangerously talented, pulling at the fabric. Biting at the soft flesh he exposes bit by bit, drawing it further down. 

Her muscles jump under the attention and she sighs, reclining back in the kitchen chair with her head pressing into the wall. Her eyes flutter shut and she breathes softly, rocking her hips up and then she feels him grip on to her hips, pushing her back down to avoid a collision with his sharp features. Roy anchors her down to the chair, smoothing one hand down the front of her skirt. He pushes gently over the fabric, rubbing right over the place his tongue had been watching her cheeks flush as she attempts to rock up again. He doesn’t let her move. Instead he drags his hand under her skirt and pulls at the elastic to her panties. They slide off crooked, down her knees and he leaves them dangling on her ankle. He enjoys the view as he slides both hands down to her right leg, pulling it up against the front of his uniform. With a careful hand, he strokes down her calf and back up again. His fingers are gentle in their touch just before he leans in. His lips leave a soft impression just along her knee and then he carefully tastes her. His tongue slowly runs just below her knee and then he presses another open mouth kiss to the spot. Riza’s breathing picks up. He can’t help but notice now the way her chest is rising and falling through her open blouse. The flush over her cheeks has spread down to her chest. 

Roy loves watching her come undone. She is a tangled mess of nerves, blonde wisps of hair fall and stick to her red cheeks. There’s a fine layer of sweat already slipping along her forehead. Her eyes stay closed when he moves his mouth back up. He kisses over her knees and then the top of her thigh. He leaves a trail of open mouth kisses up to the lining of her dark skirt and he buries himself there, at home between her legs. He listens to the moan that leaves her lips, relishes in the way her fingers card through his hair. A soft sound leaves his lips and he moans the moment she rocks her hips up. His nose brushing across her wet folds. She hooks a leg over his shoulders, opening up to him as she presses her heel to his back muscles. He presses his tongue over and moans once more at the taste. 

The woman he kneels before is intoxicating. He moans again, this time kneeling up and pressing forward. His tongue drags over the length of her cunt and she swears aloud. It draws a smirk to his lips, one that doesn’t last long because she urges him back to work with her fingers tightening in his dark hair. Her knuckles turn white as she pulls on the soft hair, pulling him closer. She rocks her hips up again, losing herself in the feeling of his tongue dipping in and out of her. He fucks her until she cries out. His tongue relentless against her, drawing back and forth along the soft muscles of her cunt. Her thighs are a sticky mess making his fingers slip along her skin. The sensation is almost too much. Roy drags a free hand up and lets his thumb smooth over the silky skin of her labia, pulling her open, exposing her to him. Riza shudders and he eases up the assault of his tongue just long enough to push two fingers inside. The woman above him shouts. Her fingers tighten in his hair and he keeps going. He drags his tongue over her clit before wrapping his lips along the bundle of nerves. It’s all too much, the pressure of his mouth on her is too much to contain. 

Riza loses herself in the feel of him. 

Her legs shake, her muscles tense and then he pushes her over the edge. A shout leaves her lips, her voice cracks and smirks as she pulls on his hair once more, trying to get him to slow down. Roy doesn’t, he helps her ride out this orgasm and pushes her into the next, unyielding in his assault on her. She shouts out a strained curse and sags back in the chair like she’s lost all of her muscles. 

His tongue leaves behind one final sweep and then he pulls back. Her thighs are red and wet, her lips are parted and she’s panting -- it’s all a sight he wants to keep in his memories forever. The markswoman above him slowly loses her grip in his hair and she drags her fingers over his cheeks, watching as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand in an absurd way that makes her breath hitch. “Am I still in trouble?” She nudges his back with the heel of her foot close to his shoulder blades. A laugh bubbles up from her lips and he leans in, pressing another kiss to the top of her knee, “And is there by chance any cake?” 

She laughs and he skirts back up to her hips, kneeling up and pressing a kiss to her navel once more just to watch the muscles in her stomach jump. She’s hypersensitive right now and he knows it, “Or I could go back to the main course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wellll, see you all in hell. Roy Mustang is great at oral and I will go to battle over that head cannon. All mistakes are my own!


End file.
